Dreaming, Not Sleeping

Forgive me.

It was a kiss that brought me here. Soft and gentle. It ripped away my breath and tore away my soul. Now I can’t find my way back. I don’t want to find my way back. I hope you understand.

First, there was a single word whispered close to my ear—sweet and warm. Come. I smiled at the nuance and turned towards the voice but, when I opened my eyes, all I saw was the silhouette of my sleeping husband, his back towards me. I closed my eyes again and sank into fitful sleep. Come. Farther away now. Enticing. Promising something else. Something new. I chased the voice through fleeting dreams, trying to see who was speaking—but he stayed just out of reach, out of sight, a teasing phantasm, hiding around corners and whispering from the dark. I awoke frustrated, wanting more.

Daylight and real-life humdrum were enough to break the last tethers of fantasy clinging to my soul. The sound of the voice faded away with the day, drowned out by tedious chatter. But the thrill of the chase stayed with me, a gentle pulse between my legs keeping time with my heartbeat. I wanted to hear his voice again. I wanted to return to the dreamscape and hunt him down. Make him follow through on everything that single word promised. I wanted night to return so I could find him again, in the dark. Ridiculous! It was simply a dream.

Anticipation carried me to bed at night. I tried to grasp a memory from that first dream, to recapture and hold the voice in the hope that I could perhaps summon its owner forward from the recesses of my mind. When my husband reached for me in the dark, I pushed his hand aside. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and listen.

Come with me.

Yes!

“Let me see you,” I said.

Come with me and you will.

I tried to follow, stumbling as I chased the shifting form in front of me. He laughed, but still I followed. It was hopeless. I couldn’t catch him. He vanished. And I crumpled...